


Pillow Talk

by icemakestars



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Pure Porn, etc - Freeform, fort builing, sex in fort, that i wont even try and justify
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 09:21:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4386398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icemakestars/pseuds/icemakestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Why- why are you doing this? Why now?” Rogue’s tone was soft, gentle. He didn't oppose his boyfriend’s actions, quite the opposite in fact, he just needed to understand where the intimacy had bloomed from before he could succumb to it. </p><p>“Isn't it obvious?” Sting smirked, leaning in to graze his lips over the sensitive area behind Rogue’s ear before whispering in it lewdly. “I wanted to build a fort with you… And then fuck you in it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pillow Talk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pixiegold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixiegold/gifts).



> follow me on tumblr: @ice-bringer
> 
> ps i am sorry i am trash
> 
> also i do not own these characters, they all belong to mashima!

"We're almost done." Rogue placed two pillows in a pile to hold the blanket in place. He smiled to himself as he admired his own handiwork. Making a fort when you're a capable adult is so much easier than when you're a clumsy child.

Before he had even turned around, Rogue was roughly tackled to the ground, his fall broken by the ludicrous array of pillows and blankets. He briefly wondered why they even  owned  this many blankets; there were only three beds in the entire house,  after all .  But then a tongue was  licking insistently over his lips, and fingers were tugging at the band in his hair, spilling the black strands over the pillows like ink over paper. All thoughts left Rogue’s mind apart from why this was happening, and that answer was easy to get.

“Hmm- Sting. Nhhgg\- Sting! Stop for a second and listen to me!” Rogue pushed gently at Sting’s hips, shoving the younger boy off of him with  half-hearted force. 

“What's wrong?” A frown lined the pale skin on Sting’s forehead, lips pulled back into a straight, thin line of confusion. 

“Why- why are you doing this? Why now?” Rogue’s tone was soft, gentle. He  didn't oppose his boyfriend’s actions, quite the opposite in fact, he just needed to understand where the intimacy had bloomed from before he could succumb to it.

“Isn't it obvious?” Sting smirked, leaning in to  graze his lips over the sensitive area behind Rogue’s ear before whispering in it lewdly. “I wanted to build a fort with you… And  then fuck you in it.” 

Rogue’s eyes widened and then fluttered shut, a shudder riding down his spine until he shifted his hips to be more flush against Sting. Their lips again in a rhythm that was much more urgent than before. Teeth clashed clumsily as they fought to get closer- impossibly close- to one another. Sting straddled Rogue’s left side, his leg wedged between Rogue's thighs to spread them out. The blond hovered over Rogue, propping himself up with hands that trapped Rogue’s head. 

The earrings that hung from Sting’s ear glinted in the small sliver of light which poked through the gaps in their sheets. They distracted Rogue for a moment, but when he finally glanced at Sting's face, the boys expression had changed from one of need to one of longing. He no longer felt a  hunger for Rogue, not like he had in the beginning of their relationship. Now he craved to be near the shadow dragon. To touch him and hold him and simply _b_ _e with him_. It was more than just juvenile lusting; what Sting  was feeling was pure and unadulterated _love_. It was an emotion Rogue recuperated, and it swept over both of them before their hands grabbed for one another and their legs tangled further, one mouth straini ng upwards and another dipping down to seal yet another tender kiss. 

"Hips." The word was a command panted from Sting's wet and bruised lips as he wrapped his hands around Rogue's thighs, easing the boy upwards in slow movements.  Sting helped Rogue shuffle his tight trousers down to his ankles, where the dark haired boy then shucked them off carelessly, kicking them off into the side of their pillow fort and knocking it into it's 'wall' (a fluffy throw blanket Yukino had once bought Frosch). Sting curled his fingers around the elastic in Rogue's boxers, pulling them down at an agonising pace. When Rogue's semi-hard member bobbed out into the humid air of their bedroom, Sting ran his fingers up it tenderly, using his other hand to work on the buttons of his shirt.

Rogue stared at Sting, with his charming smile and charismatic personality, and felt the same butterflies he had felt every day since meeting the blond boy. Although, they weren't butterflies, not really. They were more like dragons, gnawing and clawing and coiling around his insides, breathing fire so hot it consumed his entire body. He felt their flames rising as a blush on his creamy skin, and lowering to pulse sordidly between his thighs, and he was helpless against the onslaught. The soft kiss Sting planted at the base of Rogue's collarbone did nothing to dowse the fire growing in his heart, and Rogue grabbed Sting's face in a rough kiss before the latter could notice the colour rendering his cheeks a frightful shade of pink.

Sting reached around and rubbed a single digit against Rogue's ass, feeling the resistance the ring of muscle greeted him with, and sighed. 

"You have to relax, Rogue." He kissed the shadow dragon's temple, running his hand over his silky black hair. 

" _You_  have to use lube." Rogue's tone was accusing as he waited for Sting to realise the mistake he had made. There was no way they could do this without some kind of lubrication, and in one swift glance Rogue could tell that they had none at hand.

"Shit, sorry." Sting cursed, shuffling out of their fort and knocking clumsily around their bedroom. Rogue listened with a half-amused-half-concerned smirk to what sounded like draws breaking and glass smashing, until an unruly mop of blond hair was crawling towards him again, only this time he was accompanied by a small, pink bottle.

With how small their fort was, Sting had to half lay on Rogue's legs to have enough space to open the bottle. Once that had been done- and a generous amount of the bottle's content had been lathered over two of Sting's fingers-  he resumed his previous position between Rogue's thighs and tried again. This time, when Sting attempted to insert a finger, Rogue was reduced to a mere whimper. His body was relaxed, and the area was moist. It was nothing but mild discomfort, and was nothing Rogue could not handle. 

Sting thrust his index finger tentatively, adjusting his partner to the feeling of being filled as slowly as they both could handle. When Rogue had calmed his breathing, Sting took it as a sign that he could go further. When he pushed his middle finger in to join the first, Rogue felt it as a burn all the way up his spine, and gripped Sting's arm as a silent plea  to just _give him a minute_. Sting complied, stop ping all movements and uttering soothing words as breaths that washed over Rogue's face in reassuring  gusts.

Minutes passed before Rogue nodded his head slowly, releasing his grip on Sting's arm and allowing the taller boy to move the fingers which were still waiting inside his ass. It hurt at first, but that was a given. It was always mildly painful when he was just starting to be filled and stretched in obscene and intimate ways, and Rogue sometimes wondered if things was different, if he was less familiar with battles and scars and anguish, would he have gone through with their first clumsy and messy night together? Looking up at Sting, whose tongue peeked out in concentration, eyebrows furrowed and pupils blown, Rogue knew that he would have coped with any measure of pain, would have gone to lengths they hadn't even explored yet, to be with this man. 

Rogue shifted his hips, giving Sting as much access as possible in their muggy, cramped space. Sting thrust and stretched and pivoted his fingers until, finally, he reached the area he had been searching for. Both let out a shuddering sigh, Rogue's out of pleasure and Sting's relief, as Rogue's prostate was rubbing and prodded from inside his body.

"I-I'm ready." Rogue gasped out, his throat coarse as though he was suffering some dire thirst. But it wasn't water he craved, not at all. He needed... He _needed_ -

Sting hurriedly pulled his trousers down until they were only attached to his body by wrapping around his left calf, and lined his throbbing erection up to Rogue's hole. It was clenching and unclenching in anticipation, and Sting cursed loudly as he thrust himself inside. 

The preparation had been quick and messy, and Rogue knew he probably needed further scissoring or more fingers before he was completely ready for the length and girth of his lover's leaking cock. But hindsight is a luxury that neither boy possess, so Rogue simply clenched his teeth and bit his nails sharply into Sting's back, warning to not even  _breathe_ for the next few minutes.

It was painful to wait, and each minute felt sticky and slow like treacle, until Rogue was swimming in his own headiness and greed. Sting could tell, as he always could with Rogue, when the tension between them changed. When Rogue's fingers were a grip, not a clutch, used to steady himself and keep himself grounded before he got swept away by the emotion Sting was sure was taking over his body. 

Knowing he could now move, Sting set the pace hard and fast like he always did, relishing the sound of his skin slapping messily against Rogue's. His hands were tugging at Rogue's hair, tracing the toned planes of Rogue's chest, tugging firmly on Rogue's cock. The shadow dragon marvelled at how, whenever his body needed a sensation, Sting accommodated him without even being asked or told. Rogue had always hated it when people called them 'twins' because what he and Sting had was so much _more_  than a bond based on bloodlines. They were aligned and rotating along their own personal axis, existing as one another's equal and their constant. Maybe they were born from the same star, or the same idea, Rogue didn't know. But what he _did_  know, however, was that he and Sting belonged together, their souls merging into one over time. It sounded impossible when he spoke it aloud, but with Sting's cock inside him and his opening binding them together, it truly did feel as though they were becoming one in the same.

"I won't... I can't... not much longer." Rogue whimpered and mewled, letting all of his defences fall away as he tumbled into indescribable pleasure. He could sense cushions and blankets shifting and falling around them, but could not bring himself to care. Not when Sting's tongue was flicking insistently at his nipple, and a warm hand was fisted the root of his engorged dick. 

"I know... me too." Sting breathed, his voice hitching as he slammed back into Rogue. They were sweaty and panting, their breaths mingling as they shared another deep kiss. Sting swallowed down the moans Rogue offered him, cradling his lover's neck and holding his hip still to give them both better angles. This way, Sting could reach Rogue's prostate head on with each snap of his pelvis, and it was less than five thrusts later that Rogue came, whining and shuddering, into the minute space between them.

Not wanting to over stimulate his boyfriend, Sting pulled out carefully, his cock aching and damp where it rested proudly against his stomach. Despite his dreamlike haze and limbs made of liquid lead, Rogue still found it in himself to reach forward and wrap a shaking hand around Sting's member, pumping and rubbing and curling in ways that Sting cry out wantonly. It wasn't long until he reached climax as well, eyes screwed shut with Rogue's name caressing the edge of his trembling  lips. 

Sting collapsed back on top of Rogue, both boys wincing at the moist noise of semen and sweat squelching between them. 

"I need a shower." Sting declared, grinning happily at Rogue before pushing himself up and crawling out of the sad remains of their fort. He threw a smirk and a 'Feel free to join me' over his shoulder, and then disappeared into the bathroom. Glancing around at the ruffled sheets and limp pillows that were once his masterpiece, Rogue sighed deeply. He picked up a pillow and started rebuilding, hoping to finish before Sting returned from his shower.


End file.
